The XCom Files
by Stuart James
Summary: Doctor Vahlen is unfocussed and agrees she needs some time-out.


Doctor Vahlen brings her fingers up to her nose in frustration, sitting at her desk in the large research laboratory; she's not tired, quite the opposite but she's lacking focus right now and it's affecting her work. After a few more futile moments of looking at one of her papers she pushes them all to one side on her desk with a humph, then stands to stretch.

"Go." Doctor Chen says, seeing her so restless.

"But-"

"Doctor, you are doing no good here as you are."

"Hm. I do find myself unfocussed, Doctor, but we must push on. There is still much work to be done."

"Work that is right now, counter-productive. When I lack focus, I sometimes take a run on one of the gym's treadmills, just to empty my mind and recharge."

"Hm. Perhaps..."

"Go." he asserts but then more kindly, "Doctor Vahlen."

She gives him a frown then leaves to make her way to her quarters to change. An active body is as essential as an active mind and the doctor has to concede that it has been a while since she has done anything about that. Perhaps a session in the facilities' gym will indeed find the focus she needs and allow her to continue progress. She passes the occasional military operative on her way, who duly give a muted, casual salute with a "Doc" as recognition. The doctor isn't sure if she rubs them all up the wrong way or not; there's usually some degree of friction between research and the practical applications, which she has to admit is just an elaborate way of saying brains and brawn. Though she wasn't that different in her day, when she took time out from her studies to teach skiing at a resort in Switzerland. Those were great days, high in decadence and loose morals, and certainly an eye-opener for the then young doctor. Hearing of some of the operatives' high jinx around the facility, she thinks that they are quite tame in comparison to when she explored herself around the piste.

"Doc." another passing soldier says.

"Hello. Astrid, isn't it?" the doctor stops a moment to chat; she does feel she needs to get to know the combat team better, for everyone to feel more like part of the larger operation. As it is at the moment, the research team barely interacts with the combat team, their fields quite different but the doctor hopes she is not so unapproachable or different.

"Uh..." the soldier has to double back as she had already passed the doctor, "Yea. Hi. The squad call me 'Hex' though."

"Hex?" she raises her brows.

"Ha! Yea. I'm a big war game buff."

"Oh. I... see." the doctor agrees but really, has no clue as to the reference.

"Hexagons?" Hex says, seeing the bemused face on Vahlen.

"Umm..."

"Never mind, Doc. You know what us grunts are like." Hex says, her body language telling the doctor she would already rather be elsewhere.

"Don't let me keep you." the doctor attempts to release.

"Yea..." Hex takes the offer and continues on but not without a cordial, "See you around, Doc."

Quite pleased that she not only remembered Astrid's name but also that Astrid offered up her squad nickname, the doctor arrives at her quarters and changes into a black vest and running shorts, training shoes, grabs a towel, then she is off again to the gym.

"Doctor Vahlen?" Officer Bradford was passing in the corridor but has to stop to query the doctor's attire.

"Officer Bradford." she simply greets him and continues on without explanation.

"Looking good, Doc!" he calls after her.

The doctor looks back and gives him a wink without missing a beat; she's still got it. Arriving at the gym, some of the soldiers are already in various cardiovascular activities. Seeing a treadmill free, the doctor goes to it, sets a modest pace then begins jogging. After a few minutes of thudding along, she becomes aware that there is a hushed conversation between some of the 'grunts', including Hex. The doctor suspects they're mocking her somehow, or at least surprised by her appearance in the gym.

"Valhalla!" Hex finally shouts out.

"That's it!" another joins in excitedly.

"Hey, Doc!" Hex shouts.

The doctor slows the treadmill to a halt and turns to give her attention, re-adjusting her now untidy hair from running and sweat dripping from her face. Everyone else also seems to have stopped their routines to observe the exchange.

"We've got your name! From now on, you're 'Valhalla'."

"Oh..."

"You know!"

"Yes. Quite. Though Valkyrie would be more appropriate as-" the doctor attempts.

"Hey!" another soldier interrupts her, then she says with pride, "I'm Valkyrie!"

"Well I would have to say that, where the aliens are concerned, we are all Valkyries and they will soon know how we have decided their fate."

"You said it, Doc!" Valkyrie says. "Say, when are you going to pick up one of those rifles you designed for us and come out in the Skyranger? You look fit enough for a run out there."

"The Doc's hot!" a thick-set male soldier calls out and is quickly high fived by one of his colleagues with a whoop.

"I thank you for the invitation, and your kind observation, but I hardly think it appropriate. I know where my expertise lies, and it is not looking down a barrel at what I can only imagine to be terrifying when alive. You forget, I only ever see the results of your work."

"Not for long though, eh, Doc?"

"Quite. Though when captured, to stare them directly in the eye, I cannot say I will not flinch but I want them to know, we are not deterred, and we will not be so easily enslaved."

"Woo!" Hex applauds her words, soon joined then by the rest of the squad in the gym with various primordial sounds of agreement and approval.

"Well, and on that note, I myself had better get back at it. Ladies. Gentlemen." Vahlen gives a short, stiff nod to the group and walks to the exit.

"See you around, Val!" Hex calls after her, and Doctor Vahlen just returns a wave without looking back.

"Doc's got a nice ass." the thick-set soldier continues his observations once she has gone.

"In your dreams, Rhino, she's got way too much class for your sorry ass." Hex laughs.


End file.
